The Demi-Monde: Summer (49 page)

And from what she had seen and heard, the attack on the Castle had been a very close-run thing. Rivets was dead and each of his three companions had been injured during the fighting. Only the panic following the destruction of the Fermenting Plant and Ptah’s laboratory had enabled Burlesque and Odette to make their escape. In the confusion no one had been particularly interested in two burnt and bedraggled fugitives and as the gates of the Castle had been thrown open by Amazons fleeing the fires raging within, it was a simple matter for the pair of them to slip away into the night.

The wounds he’d sustained had kept Burlesque in bed for almost three days, so it was only on the morning of the seventyninth day of Summer that he felt strong enough to venture down the stairs of the safe house. Barely had he sat down at the table when Dong E gave him the bad news.

‘Rivets is dead,’ the girl announced, ‘he died saving me from vampyres.’ With that she slumped down on a chair and proceeded to weep.

Burlesque wept with her. It was a strange feeling watching someone as supposedly unfeeling as Burlesque Bandstand crying.

‘I ain’t never cried before in me life,’ he blubbed. ‘I feel like I’ve lost a brother. ‘E wos all right, wos Rivets, and a good pal.’ Odette came to sit next to her man and put an arm around him. Then she started crying too.

‘It seems that I owe the spirit of Rivets an apology,’ admitted Trixie Dashwood. ‘I should never have doubted either his competence or his belief in vampyres.’ And then, unbelievably, she started crying too. Maybe, Norma decided, the girl was human after all.

‘He died bravely, saving the True Empress,’ soothed Su Xiaoxiao.

‘I, more than any, am aware of that, Honoured Mother,’ Dong E answered, ‘but the fact remains that a second brave and faithful nonFemme has had to sacrifice himself that I might live. This is a heavy price to pay for salvation.’

‘Then you must show yourself worthy of that sacrifice, Your Majesty. These are dark times that grow ever darker.’ Su Xiaoxiao gave Burlesque a grim smile. ‘You will not have heard, Burlesque-san, but while you slept, Lucrezia Borgia has taken the throne of the Coven and announced that the war with the ForthRight is over. The Coven has surrendered and is now to be integrated into the ForthRight. Heydrich is victorious.’

‘Shit.’

‘Of course, the SheTong will fight on.’

‘And the SheTong will lose,’ said Dong E quietly. ‘No, Honoured Mother, the time of violence has passed. Now I must learn from Norma and follow her philosophy of Normalism. Now is the time for Empress Dong E to announce herself as a Normalist and to lead her people to peace. We must tell my people that I am Dong E, First Empress of the Ying Dynasty, the Bringer of Peace and Happiness, and that I eschew violence and hatred. We must tell them that just as the people of the Quartier Chaud resisted Heydrich’s ForthRight by the use of
peaceful non-cooperation, so too will we, the people of the Coven. We must tell them that today marks the first day of the age of Ying.’

Su Xiaoxiao bowed to her daughter. ‘The SheTong will pledge itself to the philosophy of Ying, Your Majesty.’

‘The WFA must fight on,’ said Trixie quietly. ‘The taking of the WarJunk is scheduled for nine days hence and I don’t believe a strategy of non-violence will prove useful in the successful execution of that exercise.’

Burlesque was persuaded to speak. ‘Colonel Trixie’s right, Dongie, luv. I dunno iffn just turning the ovver cheek is gonna work, ‘specially if all the Femmes ‘ere in the Coven take their lead from Lucrezia-bloody-Borgia and start killing everybody.’

The room went silent as those in it pondered the tasks and perils to come. Although she was uplifted by the announcement that Dong E had chosen to embrace non-violence, Norma knew that it would be a difficult road to follow, especially with a Femme as deranged as Lucrezia Borgia running the Coven. Backed by the might of the ForthRight, there was no telling what terrible things she might do to consolidate her power. What was needed was a way to discomfit Heydrich and her mind drifted back to the plans she had had before she had been abducted by Wu, the plans that involved her taking the message of Normalism to the very heart of the ForthRight.

‘This might help,’ said Norma as she laid the front page of a day-old copy of
The Stormer
across the breakfast table. The headline read, ‘Victory in the Coven Day’.

‘Wot’s that?’ asked Burlesque.

‘The ForthRight is giving over the final day of Summer to celebrations to mark the end of the war in the Coven, these to culminate on Lammas Eve with a jamboree to be held at the Crystal Palace in London, a jamboree to be attended by Heydrich himself. Empress Borgia is to be guest of honour.’

‘So wot?’

Norma tapped a finger on the page. ‘I think the one person they’ve forgotten to invite is Aaliz Heydrich. With the help of you and Odette, Burlesque, I think she’ll be able to create such a fuss that Heydrich will wish he’d never heard of the Coven. But to do this the three of us will have to go to London.’

‘Oh shit …’

Norma, Burlesque and Odette came ashore in St Petersburg just east of the Anichkov Bridge and from there Norma placed her safety in the hands of Burlesque; this, after all, was home ground for him. But even so she was impressed by the efficiency with which he organised their progress through the backstreets of Rodina, across the Rhine and into the Rookeries. He seemed to know everybody – everybody of a criminal inclination, that
is – and quickly had them snug and secure in a couple of rooms in Berlin.

‘These is Wanker’s old rooms,’ he explained as they settled in.

Norma frowned. ‘But won’t the Checkya be keeping watch here? I mean, Vanka’s got a reward on his head.’

‘Wanker was born wiv a reward on his head,’ answered Burlesque. ‘Nah, the Checkya ain’t interested in ‘im no more. Wanker’s yesterday’s news. Anyway, word is he’s scarpered to the JAD.’ He tossed his bag onto the bed he had chosen for him and Odette, then turned to Norma. ‘So what’s to do then, Miss Norma?’

‘My plan is to launch Normalism here in the very heart of the ForthRight and to do that I need to make a really dramatic debut. And, by my reckoning, this “Victory in the Coven” jamboree is the event to do it. I want to walk out in front of that audience as Aaliz Heydrich and for Heydrich’s own daughter to announce just how corrupt and venal the ForthRight’s leadership is and to urge everyone to follow the teachings of Normalism.’

Burlesque whistled and pushed his bowler hat onto the back of his head. ‘Fuck me gently, Miss Norma, I didn’t fink yous wos serious. Yous don’t want much, do yous?’

‘Oh, I’m very serious, Burlesque. This is the perfect time and place to announce that Normalism has come to the ForthRight. There are going to be one hundred thousand soldiers on parade and embarrassing Heydrich in front of that lot will really put a spoke in the bastard’s wheel.’

‘Difficult,’ mused Burlesque, ‘wiv Heydrich in attendance that place is gonna be done up tighter than a duck’s arsehole. It’s gonna be swarming wiv Checkya.’

‘Burlesque
a raison
, Norma,’ agreed Odette. ‘Even I, a girl from the Quartier Chaud, ‘as ‘eard of the
Palais de Cristal
most
celebrated and with Heydrich to be making the attendance …’ She trailed off, but what she left unsaid was very eloquent.

‘Cors,’ mused Burlesque in an absent-minded fashion, ‘your message ov peace and non-violence ain’t gonna be falling on deaf ears. Word on the streets is that people are really pissed off wiv all the fighting. An’ iffn you get thousands and thousands ov soldiers who are fed up bin shot at all together in one place ‘oo knows wot might happen?’ He gave his chin a long, thoughtful stroke. ‘Question is though, ‘ow to do it?’

The answer was provided by Sporting Chance.

‘Waddya fink?’

Norma had to lean closer to Burlesque to hear what he said, she had never imagined that vaudeville shows could be so damned noisy. The audience – and there must have been a thousand people jammed into the music hall – shouted, whistled, cheered and booed all the way through the acts, making it difficult to hold a normal conversation. There had even been one lunatic running around shouting ‘Fire!’, but he had simply been ignored.

Burlesque raised his voice to a near-bellow. ‘I said, waddya fink?’

As she looked down from the balcony to the auditorium below, Norma wasn’t quite sure
what
to think. Back in the Real World she’d seen programmes about music halls on the Polly, but she had never imagined that she would ever be sitting in one and it was an experience that had taken a little getting used to. The music hall – the Canterbury Theatre, which was slap-bang in the centre of a really low-rent part of the Rookeries called Lambeth – was grand enough in a tarty, blingy sort of way, but its glitz was shrouded in a fog of choking tobacco smoke and it had a smell about it – a thousand damp people slowly drying out had its own unique bouquet – that made
Norma’s stomach turn. But despite these problems the audience really seemed to be enjoying itself.

And there
were
acts to enjoy. Oddly – she had never been a great fan of jugglers – the guy called Paul Cinquevalli who had closed the first half of the show had been really good, especially the stunt he had performed supporting a chair – with his assistant sitting on it reading a newspaper – in his
teeth
whilst simultaneously juggling five beer bottles. And Odette had gone ape when a trapeze artist – some Quartier Chaudian guy called Jules Léotard – had scared the crap out of the audience by swinging high over their heads and doing the most outrageous somersaults.

But enjoyable as it all was, Norma still couldn’t figure out why Burlesque had demanded that she accompany him and Odette to the theatre, especially as time was running out: Lammas Eve and the ‘Victory in the Coven’ celebrations were only a few days away. The answer was left to the very end, when the star of the show walked on the stage to a fanfare of trumpets and a riot of rapturous applause and cheering.

‘This is ‘er,’ yelled a very excited Burlesque, ‘this is Sporting Chance.’ With that he leant out over the balcony’s balustrade to join in the welcome.

The girl who sashayed to the middle of the stage was blonde, brassy and big. Mainly big, Norma decided. Not fat, just big. She was tall and wide with the most stupendously large breasts Norma had ever seen, breasts that were very prominently on display: her corset was so tightly laced that her tits were pushed skywards and the piece of wispy lace designed to cover them was barely adequate for purpose. She also seemed to have decided that her legs were worth a look too and, in contravention to the more conservative UnFunDaMentalist fashions, her hooped skirt ended well above her chubby knees.

The audience loved her.

Such was the hullaballoo the girl’s fans were making that it was just as well that her large chest housed an equally large set of lungs, otherwise nobody would have been able to hear her. But when she opened her mouth to sing – without the help of a microphone – her voice was loud enough to fill the hall and to soar over any sound that had the temerity to try to compete with her.

From what Norma could make out – the Rookeries slang the singer used in her lyrics defeated her on occasion – her repertoire was pretty risqué with lots of ribald suggestiveness, this accompanied by any number of winks and wiggles. The audience adored her cheek and her double entendres and, though Norma thought it all just a tad crude, she could understand why the girl was so popular. Sporting Chance was coquettish, impudent and not above poking fun at the ForthRight’s leaders; the lines:

brought the house down.

But it seemed that what everyone in the theatre had been waiting for was her final number, and when she launched into it, Norma sat there stunned. Her finale was a rendition – a very salacious and sexy rendition, it had to be said – of the Marlene Dietrich classic ‘Falling in Love Again’.

‘How—?’ she began.

‘Sportin’ ‘eard that song when Ella Thomas came to the Prancing Pig and sung it. Quite taken wiv it was Sportin’ and when she started singin’ there on a Sunday night, she put it in ‘er act. Went down a storm it did. It’s wot made her famous …
that’n ‘aving such big charms, ov course. Punters like a bit ov flesh on their singers, like ‘em to bounce around a bit when they goes for the high notes. ‘Cors ‘aving me as ‘er manager and billing ‘er as “the Naughty Nightingale” ‘elped.’

‘You know this girl?’

Burlesque moved his mouth closer to Norma’s ear so Odette couldn’t hear. ‘I “knows” Sportin’ Chance in all senses of the word, iffn you get my drift.’ He gave Norma a wink. ‘Like I says, I’m ‘er manager … well, I wos before I wos arrested by that bastard Beria.’ As the curtain fell on Sporting’s performance, he got up from his seat. ‘I fink we should go backstage an’ say ‘ello.’

‘You go, Burlesque. I’ll just go back to my room: I’m still trying to work out how to disrupt the Crystal Palace celebrations.’

‘Oh, yous don’t wanna worry abart that, Miss Norma. Very popular wiv the troops is Sportin’ Chance, so popular that she’s gonna be singing for them at the “Victory in the Coven” celebrations.’